tampered | Log; On-going

Log; On-going

When; February 18th, Wrath Day
Rating; (Changed to)R for violence, Nat's magic of doom, and Faye's foul mouth.
Characters; Nathaniel (

natty_boy) and Faye (

glock30) and, later, Kitty (

kittyjones
Summary; Nathaniel just doesn't know when to shut up and Faye just doesn't know when to hold back.
Log;

When she was looking for something or someone, Faye didn't so much run as she did stomp. Her boots clacked loudly against the flooring of the stairs, her gun clicking and tapping against the inside of her thigh, the hidden pocket of her sweater. She'd have to lose the damn red thing if she wanted to aim right while moving, but she didn't think it would come to aiming. Another punch or two in Nathaniel's stupid, sniveling face and that would probably be that.

She didn't know what it was, why she was feeling like she just needed to anticipate the explosion of a gunshot in her fingers, why it had to be Nathaniel getting the brunt of it. Well... that was a bit of an understatement. Faye knew perfectly well why Nathaniel was getting the brunt of it, but she liked to think that it was an entirely personal reason and that she was doing it to make herself feel better. And she was. So, really it all worked out in the end.

Climbing the last flight of stairs--hardly winded--Faye shoved open the door to the roof with a hard push from her shoulder, barely wincing as the pressure jarred her shoulder. She came out with her Glock cocked and her finger poised on the trigger, tense and waiting.

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Faye could already feel the bruises. Nathaniel dug his stubby nails so deep and harsh that she wouldn't be surprised to see blood there now, scabs tomorrow. Disgusting. She watched his eyes glaze with a film of saline, felt empowered from it, understood, now, how Spike and Jet had made shooting and hurting look so effortless, so clean. It didn't matter: she was running on cold, freezing adrenaline and she--

Kitty's voice cut the tension hard and solid and she felt her fingers slip with a sickening slurp from Nathaniel's shoulder and Kitty yanked her back. Faye almost lost her balance, the heels of her boots rocking. She grabbed for Kitty's sleeve with her bad hand--natural instinct--and shrieked as the broken bones grate together. She felt close to passing out, burns throbbing, cold throbbing, hand aching so bad.

"Kitty," she growled, and shoved herself away from Jones with a hard push, which knocked her off balance, knees skinning on the ground. Her stockings pulled and tore. She spit blood onto the floor again. "Don't you even fucking say a word to her," she screamed at Nathaniel, getting to her feet again.

This is so messed up, she thought.

Kitty didn't connect the slight rough sound to bones until she heard Faye cry out, and saw her body crumple. She turned frantically, eyes wide, too late to stop her friend from sinking to the ground. "Faye!"

At the sight of the torn clothing and the blood as she rose again - oh God, the blood - Kitty reached out with a gasp, hand resting gently on the other woman's shoulder. "Are you... don't... please, stop fighting, you're hurt," she asked, pleaded, voice trembling slightly.

Spinning her head to face Mandrake her face was instantly harsh, all traces of concern gone from her expression, when she noticed the bloody mess that was his shoulder. Instantly her face flickered into heartfelt distress, concern, love, and for a moment she forgot the situation and was only able to comprehend that there was blood all over her lover.

No.

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. No. Not Nathaniel. "I'm here to stop you doing something you'll regret, you prat," she didn't shout, but she didn't need to, her voice practically crackled with anger. "Just what do you think you're doing? Both of you?"

Mandrake struggled to stand, stopped when the movement suddenly felt much too heavy and beyond his control; and so, he contented himself with staying there, in that position, wondering when the blood would stop, the pain would stop, but it kept on going and he could do nothing. Breathing was difficult, but he knew he wasn't as injured as the Valentine girl, and for that, he allowed a quietly triumphant smirk.

Then the commoner spoke, and he barked out a harsh laugh, eyes bright and almost wild. "Having a little conversation, Miss Jones," he answered. "None of which concerns you. So go along on your way, unless you want to get hurt. I am beyond regret now." Mandrake paused, drawing in a shaky breath as the throbbing in his shoulder escalated. The bullet was still in there. He could feel it, dull and hot and the blood -- he blinked quickly to be rid of the lingering tears and the threat of unconsciousness.

Not in front of the commoners. Not yet. He had enough strength for a spell, to charge the demon with another attack. Should he finish off Valentine, or be rid of that pestering commoner girl for good?

Faye pushed her hair out of her face, smearing blood into her hair. She wanted a shower more than anything else, a shower and a sling and maybe a really big bag of--no. Not ice. She'd put her hand through a meat grinder before she'd willingly use ice on herself. She was still cold. Without having to even look at herself, she knew her lips were blue, skin paler than normal, thin and faded like a ghost. "I'm fine," Faye said to Kitty, shoving even further away from her.

"What does it look like we're doing?" Faye asked. She tried to hunch over, but the burnt, raw skin on her back protested and she straightened up. "I hate to agree with him," she said, not looking at Kitty, "but I do. Like I'd ever regret putting that hole in you, you moron." She noticed the tears in his eyes with a sickeningly sweet smile. "What, are you gonna cry?"

Faye could see the telltale signs of another fight brewing underneath Nathaniel's skin, along the tensing of his shoulders and back. She gripped her Glock tighter in her left hand, stepping a little closer to Kitty. She wasn't sure if she could manage to hit him with her left hand again, but she'd throw the damn thing at him if she thought it would help.

Kitty willed herself to stay calm. She was safe, and the others were seriously hurt, but not fatally. Faye had an eerie look about her, stained by the spell, and the magician who had cast it was slumped on the floor, trying to stand and failing, his face contorted in pain. Bad, but not fatal. Not fatal yet, at any rate. "It looks like you're both making idiots of yourselves, and that concerns me rather a lot, actually."

She was perfectly aware of Mandrake trying to steady himself, and like as not prepare himself for another move - she had been around him too long, fought with him for too long to not notice it. She also noticed Faye trying move closer to her, but she wasn't having that. Neither of them was going to hurt the other again. Quickly she stepped forward, repositioning herself between the pair.

"This is a curse," she stated, trying to keep her voice steady, "and you know it. You must know it. This isn't you." Her eyes flickered to Natha-- Mandrake, and she spoke again, softly, barely a whisper. "This isn't you." After a pause she moved once more, and she knelt down in front of him, eyes insistent as one hand hovered inches from his wounded shoulder.

Mandrake's eyes merely flickered to the approaching hand before another Detonation went off, between him and the commoner. His shout of pain was swallowed by the minor explosion as it forced back Jones as well as singed his open shoulder, but at least it got her away from him. The initial pain of the blast faded on his shoulder, and absently, he realised that he had indirectly managed to cauterize the wound, though for how long it would stay that way, he didn't know.

"Do not," he spat out, "touch me, filth." He jerked his head around towards Valentine, eyes narrowing. "And I could ask you the same question." He let his eyes roam over her, insultingly, and back to her face, to which he directed a slow smile. "Surely you do not think this is over." His gaze moved back to Jones. "Either of you."

Faye felt the explosion before it actually happened, the tension and buildup shaking her feet in her boots. It blew up in what looked like, from her angle, Kitty's face, and Faye was moving with unchecked rage and determination before she could comprehend what was happening. She fired two more shots at Nathaniel, but because she was tired or using her left hand or because she didn't have it in her anymore, she missed.

Realizing that she could have hit Kitty without meaning to, Faye moved forward again, thinking that she would wrap both her hands around Nathaniel's neck and squeeze until his eyes rolled out of his head, broken bones or not. But then Kitty flew past her, and Faye breathed a heavy, "Fuck," and turned to make sure she didn't do something stupid like fall off the roof.

She had no time to make sure that Kitty was anything other than a smear on the ground--which she wasn't--because she could hear the magician behind her, getting to his feet. "Put your money where your mouth is, kid," she said, low and furious.

As she was thrown back, Kitty could feel the heat of the spell on her jacket, pressing, insisting against her flesh, demanding to burn clean through it. She hit the ground with a dull thud and still it pushed against her, sending her skimming backwards across the concrete, until she hit the small wall diving roof from ground and could go no further. Then her resistance began to kick in, searching out the magic, absorbing it, turning the heat to cold... and it was gone. Pain from the throw and the subsequent collision rattled through her, but no burning. She sat there heavily for a moment, trying in vain to regain her breath.

The sound of gunshots snapped her back to attention, and she staggered to her feet, wobbling slightly with the effort of even standing. "No!" Her vision was swimming, eyesight more than a little dizzy from Mandrake's attack, and she couldn't make out if he was... She gave a shudder of relief as she realised he hadn't cried out. Against all the odds, Faye had missed.

She walked, feet rapidly steadying, and dusted off her jacket in an attempt to make light of the attack which... well, had it been cast on someone without resilience against magic, it would have been fatal. "Magic isn't going to cut it with me, Mandrake. Idiot. Don't you learn anything?"

Soon she was by the two of them again, her legs weak under her but her voice still strong, and showing no signs of backing down. "Stop fighting. Both of you. Now."

Mandrake all but snarled when Faye approached, automatically twisting to the side when she aimed her gun, flinched when it fired, inaudible sigh of relief when she missed. Twice. She was getting rusty already? And he had been worried for a moment there, but no, he was fairly certain that victory was his.

The magician rolled his eyes when Jones stepped in again. Always trying to play the hero, to be noble and self-sacrificing. According to the boy, it was him that did the sacrifice. How silly of her to try something he - we - had already done. First come, first serve. He bared his teeth in a half-smile, half-grimace.

"I learn plenty, Jones. And I shall desist if the lovely Miss Valentine does, and only then. Else, I am wholly prepared to fire back once more." His eyes narrowed. "I do not take kindly to being attacked, after all. And I see no reason for those additional shots fired, seeing as Miss Jones is unhurt, for the most part."

Faye swiped at the blood from a busted lip. She must have bit down on it without realizing. And Kitty was talking, but she wasn't listening. It didn't concern her, and it suddenly hit her like a truck that whatever was going on here, with them, between them, didn't concern her either. That didn't bother Faye. She had lived her life as an observer, really. This was no different. "Have it your way," Faye snarled, spinning on a boot heel to stalk off toward the door.

It hurt. Stalking off after getting your ass a little kicked always hurt. She had goosebumps on her arms, the cold spell still under her skin, and the burns up and down her body were the color of fresh meat. She was tired and cold and wanted to sleep and fix her hand. It hurt, too. A lot.

So she turned to go, tucking her gun back into her destroyed sweater with an upward tilt of her chin. Not meaning to, Faye caught Kitty's eye, tried to communicate something she wasn't sure how to communicate, and quickly looked away. "Don't consider this a victory, kid," she said to Nathaniel, looking over a burnt shoulder. "As far as I'm concerned this isn't finished yet."

She reached into her pocket for her cigarettes and lighter and only managed to pull out the Zippo--once someone else's, now hers. "Figures," she said, flicking the cap open with a snick and sliding through the open door as the lighter cap clamped back down.

As their eyes met Kitty instinctively took a step towards Faye, wincing at the blood on her hand where she'd wiped her lip, and hating the City, and completely unsure as to what to do. Let Faye leave for safety? Or let Faye leave and then... have her collapse from her wounds? Other people might be more concerned about whether they were left alone with a psychotic magician or not , but it didn't bother Kitty in the slightest.

"Faye, don't..." She didn't know what to say. It didn't matter anyway. With a murmured threat and a click of a lighter, Faye was gone. Kitty stood quite still for a minute, still reeling. The sudden silence felt strange, and the cool wind stung against her hot eyes, as she hurriedly blinked back what might have been... no, it couldn't have been.

She turned sharply to face Mandrake, mouth opening and closing noiselessly as she took a few more moments to find the words to speak. "You're hurt," she said, the revelation sounding blunt and pointless as it spilled from her lips. What else could she say? "You need help."

As Faye turned away and exited the scene, Mandrake didn't try to hold back a triumphant bark of laughter, watching her retreating form with a cold smile. She didn't think it was over, did she? Ha. Well, neither did he. He looked forward to a rematch, should there be one, and oh, he would be prepared if there was.

With that matter taken care of, Mandrake turned his eyes on Jones, and he revelled in her gaping, speechless expression. Speechless. Just the way he liked her. Much too loud, hissing, angry, annoying. Ah, but that was short-lived; she spoke again, and his face contorted into a sneer.

"I need nothing whatsoever from you," he said, voice soft and icy. The magician pulled himself up with more of an effort than he expected, left arm hanging limply at his side as the blood still trickled down, dripped off his fingertips and into a small puddle on the ground. "It is a small victory," he continued, "saving us from total bloodshed. But do take note, Miss Jones, that even Valentine stated that this was not over yet." He quirked an eyebrow. "My sentiments exactly."

When he sneered at her Kitty had to check herself from doing something drastic, containing herself to tightening her hands into sharp fists and narrowing her eyes. Even after all this time her instinct was still to fight the magicians, to hurt them if she could. They hurt her, hurt her friends, tried to kill her, treated her like she was nothing... this was just like back home. Everything that had happened here was just like London - with the exception that here her friend, Faye, was still alive. And then there was one other terrible difference; she was in love with the magician in question, and she had no choice but to refuse to give in to her anger, refuse to hurt him.

And because of that he was able to stand there, turning his nose up at her, without a care in the world.

"You'd think as a politician you'd be good at lying," she said coolly. One eyebrow raised, her gaze flickered from his face to the growing pool of red blood on the ground, and then back again. "But there's no point trying to spin the truth when it's obvious. You're bleeding. You need help."

She was positively shaking with rage as he continued to speak. Did he never give up? She hated him. Hated him. He was so callous, like a petulant child, not even dignifying her with proper talk. Merely a dismissal and a threat, and a look of utter contempt. "I hate you," the whispered words slipped out without her even realising it.

Enough. She turned away from him, turned to leave, his voice still ringing in her ears.

But it was too hard to take even one step. This wasn't her. This wasn't what she did. She didn't run away from magicians, she fought and she won. This wasn't Nathaniel, this was Mandrake, the man who had been ruining her life so utterly since she was barely out of childhood. Could she just walk away? Retreat? Let the matter rest?

No. Expression hardening, she spun round again, and an equally hard first shot out directly at his smug face, colliding with a sharp crack.

"Well, love, I hate you too."

Mandrake merely smiled, distant and cool, as she turned away from him. He didn't allow his injury to ruin the fact that he had actually won over the commoner girl. She never walked away, and he knew that this was an achievement; it did not matter who saw it, or who didn't, as no one would understand in this world. Their rivalry was a secret one here, and yet he revelled in that quiet glory. Mandrake waited for her to take a step, waited for her to leave him be. It should have bene so easy, so quick - but then she turned around again.

What in the --

"Fuck!" For the second time that day, the magician felt the blunt force of a punch connect with his jaw; there was venom behind this one, and, already weakened from the gradual bloodloss, he reeled back. Mandrake caught himself on the ledge, staring at the ground, dazed, as pain blossomed over his already bruised jaw. Twice bruised now. He shook his head, pulled himself upright, closed his eyes then opened them to glare at the girl. Then he smiled a little, softened his voice to that ever-so (disgusting, sickly) gentle keen of the boy.

"I suppose I deserved that," he mocked in Nathaniel's tone. Then his voice shifted, expression hardening. "But if you are through, Miss Jones, I'll be on my way now. We have important matters to attend to in the form of research and knowledge. None of which you would understand, certainly."

Kitty tried to pretend what he said didn't hurt. She repeated it over and over to herself like a mantra. I don't care what he says, I don't care what he says. But it did hurt. She didn't want to hear him say he hated her. More than anything, she didn't want that. And the hurt and the anger made her feel a little bit better as she knocked him to the ground.

But a little bit better than terrible was still... pretty terrible.

The anger surged once more as he imitated Nathaniel. "How dare you," she spat out, fury etched on her face. She swallowed audibly, struggling to keep her emotions under control, opening and closing her fists as she willed her muscles to stop being so bloody tense. It didn't work. "You did deserve it. And you deserve a whole lot more."

She wanted him to hurt for what he said to her. What he'd done to her. Kitty was never one to let something go, to back out of a fight, to lose when she knew how to win. And she knew one thing that would truly anger him. "Research? Knowledge? Like what, Mandrake? The Gate?"

Her voice taking on a mocking tone, she smiled coldly, "Funny that one of the most complex spells in the history of mankind should be carried out by a commoner. Funny that you should fail. Not so clever after all, are you?"

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Log; On-going

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